The Most Important Question You Can Ask

When I heard this week that Michael Phelps was planning to return to competitive swimming, my first reaction was to feel a little sad for him. I honor Mr. Phelps for the discipline, grit and passion he needed to win a record 18 gold medals. But I also sense that he's going back to swimming because he's chasing a high that hasn't held up. In the same way, I respect Michael Jordan for all he achieved in basketball. But after reading Wright Thompson's brilliant article about him in ESPN Magazine, I was struck by the emptiness of his life since he retired as a player 11 years ago. We celebrate and envy people's extraordinary individual accomplishments and successes, but the pleasure they derive from their efforts is often surprisingly fleeting. And there is a reason for that. What generates an enduring experience of meaning and satisfaction in our work is the sense that what we're doing really matters — that we're truly adding value in the world. Or as Viktor Frankl put it so eloquently: "Don't aim at success. The more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued, it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side effect of one's personal dedication to a cause greater than one's self." For me, the threshold question is this: In the service of what? It's the question I find myself asking when I read about the amazing wealth being accrued by hedge fund managers. I respect the financial acumen of someone like David Tepper, who earned $3.5 billion last year or John Paulson, who earned $1.9 billion, or Carl C. Icahn, who earned $1.7 billion. But ought we to revere these investors simply for accumulating ever more wealth? Building one's own value to feel more valuable is ultimately a losing game. Imagine instead that Mr. Tepper decided he had enough money for himself and his family, and truly dedicated himself instead to a greater cause. Mr. Tepper could use the $3.5 billion he earned in 2013 — or even just keep $100 million — and hire 75,000 people at $40,000 each over the next year to create his own Works Projects Administration and take on our crumbling infrastructure. Or he could use that money to support tens of thousands of passionate but struggling artists, or give generous grants to thousands of worthy scientists whose critical research isn't funded sufficiently, if at all. It's great that a group of billionaires, led by Warren E. Buffett and Bill Gates, have pledged to give away half of their fortunes when they die. But why wait? Why not right now? Of course, "In the service of what?" isn't just a question for billionaires. It's one we all need to be asking ourselves. I've long been haunted by an article called "The Tragedy of the Commons" written by the ecologist Garrett Hardin for the magazine Science in 1968. The article focuses on the dangers of overpopulation, but Mr. Hardin's broader argument is about how individuals, acting from their rational but narrow self-interest, can collectively destroy something they all need to survive and prosper. He uses the example of an open pasture to which struggling herdsmen are invited to bring their cattle to feed. Eager to improve their economic circumstances, the herdsmen naturally want to feed as many cattle as possible. The problem is that over time, overgrazing takes a progressive toll on the commons, and, ultimately, it's destroyed for everyone. We need to redefine self-interest to recognize that it requires serving the commons — even if only for the selfish reason that our survival, and the survival of our children, depends on protecting our shared planet. The answer to "In the service of what?" is to add more value to the commons than we take out, and not to discount any good that we can do. "We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference," said the children's rights advocate Marian Wright Edelman, "ignore the small daily differences we can make, which, over time, add up to big differences that we cannot foresee." Personal accomplishments make us feel good. Adding value to other people's lives makes us feel good about ourselves. But there is a difference. The good feelings we get from serving others is deeper and lasts longer. Think for a moment about what you want your children to remember about you after you're gone. Do more of that.